


Cherry Bomb

by ninhursag



Category: The Runaways (2010)
Genre: Car Sex, F/F, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for pornbattle. Joan and Cherie have sex in a shiny, shiny car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Bomb

Joan's got her hands on the wheel of a sweet, sweet ride and Cherie's on the passenger side, hair bound up in a scarf just like Grace fucking Kelly, feet propped on the dash and blowing cigarette smoke out the window.

They stop at a light just past Rodeo and Joan grins at her. There's a mess of dark hair covering her eyes, but that grin just blazes and Cherie gives it back, double time. “Think he's going to miss the car?” she asks.

That just makes Joan laugh. “Not as much as he's going to miss the blow job you promised him and aren't going to deliver.”

Cherie rolls her eyes and takes a drag of smoke. “Who says I won't? I might have to, if the cops get after you for stealing a big name producer's shiny Cadillac.”

Joan smirks and leans over, keeping one hand on the wheel and letting the other rest on the silky polyester white of Cherie's skirt. “Aww, you'd suck dick for me? I'm flattered. What else would you do if I asked you to?”

Cherie looks up from under a flutter of pale lashes and the curl of her cheek is all California fresh, like an angel's, but her lips are painted bright, bright red and her tongue is a soft pink when she licks them. “What else would I do? Or are you really asking me what else would I _suck_ , Joanie?”

The light turns green and Joan hits the gas fast enough to make the engine rev. Her hand stays on Cherie's thigh, feeling the heat of warm skin under slick cloth until Cherie's fingers cover hers and slide them up and under, right under her skirt.

At the next light, Cherie drops her cigarette in the ash tray, turns around, smiles like she's flying, and kisses Joan full on the mouth. She tastes like nicotine and bubble gum, bitter and sweet. She breaks the kiss and winks. “Better hurry, before the cops come.”

The cops don't come, but Joan does, pulled up by the side of a dirt road overlooking the Hollywood Hills. Just like that, her jeans around her ankles, sitting on the hood of a huge ass Cadillac, with Cherie Curie's bright blonde head between her legs and skinny hands digging into her knees.


End file.
